Coloured Emotions
by IndieWrites
Summary: They deal with death, destruction and rebirth everyday. Still they have problems of their own. Emotions simmer just below the surface in varying rainbows of colors. Multiple oneshots, and short stories with many characters from Bleach. Rating may change.
1. Pink Sympathies

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of it's characters. They belong to the guru of epic cliff hangers- Tite Kubo. However, I do own the dreams in which his characters play in.

A/N: This is a series one shots, drabbles and short stories featuring multiple characters from the series. Some may contain spoilers up to the latest chapters of the manga, and season 11 of the anime. I will post warnings as they come up. I haven't decided if there will be parings, but I am open to suggestions. So drop me a PM if you have one. Once again, reviews are welcome. Yes, some of the people may seem OofC, but that is intentional. And flamers... Toshiro has some paperwork for you to do.

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_**PINK SYMPATHIES**_

He had lost track of time. A strange concept to him, as one who was always chastising her for being late, lazy or lost. Looking back, he wondered why he had push her so hard. Was it really so bad when she left in the middle of her work to grab drinks with Izuru and Ikkaku? Did he have to ride her ass so hard when she came back with a hangover and fell asleep on his couch? The questions swirled through his mind, lengthening the feeling of guilt he held in his chest. He knew it wasn't his fault. It was no one's in particular, actually. Things like this just happened.

Life happened.

But why life had to deal her such a cruel hand, he simply didn't understand. It seemed he had seen far too many people suffer during his time in the Soul Society. People he had loved were hurt, or destroyed. None of them deserved the cards they had to play with. Dealt a hand they were sure to lose with. And when they lost… the currents of life carried them away from him.

Yet he stood still. He went on. He remained strong, frozen, unmovable. An iceberg amidst the waves.

A tear hit his hakama, leaving a cold spot on the dark fabric. Surprised, he swiped at his eyes, pulling away a tear streaked hand. He choked momentarily, struggling to keep his sobs in.

He was strong.

He was frozen.

He was breaking.

His face buried in his hands, he gulped in big breaths. Toshiro Hitsugaya did not cry. At least not in public. Hearing the regular breathing of his lieutenant hissing through her oxygen mask, he worked on matching his to hers. She would tease him if she knew.

No. He paused. Despite her carefree ways and sometime inappropriate behaviors, she always knew when to be serious. And anything that dealt with her beloved captain's emotions, she was quick to pick up on. When he had knelt at Kusaka's grave and choked out his goodbyes, she had stood quietly by his side, a calm strength. It was always that way. She watched his back unflinchingly, unable to see any fault within him. Well, besides his seemingly inability to have fun on any level.

Now it was his turn. He had sat beside her bed every evening since her treatments had began. It was odd, discovering she had something so devastating as cancer. They had foolishly thought that Soul Reapers were beyond having such human diseases. Then again, Captain Ukitake showed symptoms of tuberculosis. They were mortal in their immortality, really. They became injured, even died. They were not so different from their human counterparts after all.

It had been a human who determined what was causing Rangiku's unusual health problems. Ichigo's father had caught on to her symptoms and told them to take her back to the Soul Society. Upon reflection, Toshiro wondered briefly how Isshin knew what they were, much less where they needed to go. But that was a puzzle for another time. What he said was right, and so they had come back a few weeks ago. With the information Isshin had sent with them, Captain Unohana was able to diagnose and begin treatments immediately. She had assured the worried 10th division captain that Rangiku would be fine.

He didn't believe her.

So there he sat, again. He watched her as she slept; her lovely ice blue eyes closed, their lids turning purplish as the illness and treatment battled it out within her system. Her ample bosom, usually so exposed unabashedly, heaved with every breath she took, the ugly material of her gown covering her milky flesh. He had forgotten how many times she had squished his head with those things. A small smile tugged at his lips. He'd never let on…

A few days ago, the real heart break began. Her glorious mane of strawberry blond locks began to fall out. A normal reaction to the medication, they were told. Despite her constant reference to her breasts, it was actually her hair that she loved the most.

Truth be told, so did he. Especially the way it would whip around her during a fight. It seemed to be as alive as _Haineko. _He glanced at the lonely sword in the corner of the room. He knew how it felt. Looking back to the shorn head of his lieutenant, he bit his lip. She decided yesterday the best route to go. Hence, the remaining locks had been shaven, and she had tried to hide her tears.

It was then he knew what he must do for her. He wanted her to understand that she was not in this alone. And, sadly, he was terribly rusty at saying his emotions out loud. Rising from his seat, he reached underneath and pulled out a box. He hoped this would help her understand what he couldn't say. He knew visiting hours would be over shortly, and he wanted to be gone before she woke up once more.

Silently, he placed the pink wrapped box on her table, and brushed a gentle kiss across her brow. Whispering a soft 'goodbye,' he left, the unspoken promise of his return on the morrow assured.

Toshiro was most surprised to see a note from Captain Unohana laying on his desk the moment he walked into his office the next morning. Picking it up, he hurriedly rushed out of the room, shunpoing across the _Seireitei. _The note indicated the matter was urgent. His heart stuttered and his fists clenched. He had tried to prepare himself for anything. Now it was time to see if he had succeeded.

Alighting softly in front of the clinic, he stalked into the lobby, looking around for Captain Unohana or lieutenant Isane Kotetsu. Seeing no one around; and not a man of outstanding patience, he made his way to Rangiku's room, fearing the worst.

What he saw there was something he could never have prepared for. Sitting up in her bed, his precious lieutenant stared out her window, lost in some sweet thought that brought a smile to her lips. His heart shook a little. He hadn't seen her smile in a while. However, what brought a smile to his own lips was the white cropped hair resting on her head, its ends just touching the bottom of her ears. Two loops pulled to join in the back, held there by a pink ribbon.

He cleared his throat. She turned her bright eyes to him, full of life and happiness. "You came," she whispered. He nodded, crossing to her bedside and stopped. She looked up past his eyes, to the finely cut hair on his head. Gently, she reached out and smoothed her fingers through it.

"Thank you." Her words said so much more, and he understood exactly what she meant.

"I will always have your back," he replied. "No matter what comes our way."

Clutching his hand, she soon fell asleep. He sat there, watching her, his fingers playing with her new tresses. White somehow suited her. And pink had always been her favorite color. Now, he found it was one of his too.


	2. White Regrets

Disclaimer: Bleach.. not mine, unless you count the stuff under the sink?? Nope.. well then, they belong to Tite Kubo. Still.

A/N: Sorry about this one.. it is exceedingly angst. Not all of them will be like this, I promise. R/R please.

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_**WHITE REGRETS**_

Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya of the 10th division loved the snow. It was his element after all. His spirit was bound to the frosty flakes that he could call forth. He wasn't sure if it was the cold beauty of the falling snow, or the hush that seemed to envelope the world as it fell, that made him feel at peace like nothing else could. Perhaps it was the pristine whiteness that covered everything, conforming itself to that which it landed upon. Casting a chilly blanket of perfection, everything was equal in the snow.

Whatever the reason, he loved it. He loved the amazing power he felt when Hyorinmaru answered his call. He loved seeing his magnificent dragon consume his enemies. It wasn't that he enjoyed their pain exactly. He was not a cruel man. But there was something about the way the dragon danced as it worked its way to devour their prey that gave him a thrill.

Which was precisely the source of his utter confusion at the moment. For it was not a thrill nor anything akin to enjoyment that he felt. Watching as the last flakes swirled around him, falling freely to the ground below, he felt quite the opposite.

Dancing as they did, the flakes took their time in falling, landing silently on a broken body, one of many littering the scene before him. As his bankai began to fade away, he used the remaining time to fly over the battlefield stretching out across the land. What he saw shattered his spirit. Comrades, allies and enemies. Death did not care what they were in the end. It had the final claim, equalizing all who were overcome by it. And it had claimed so many that day.

The winter war began with their fight in the false Karakura town, but quickly spilled over into the world of the living. Try as they might, the 13 Court Guard Squad could not contain all of the destruction. The blood spilt was not only that of hollows, Espadas, and Soul Reapers, but also of innocent humans that were caught in the cross fire.

Scanning the carnage below, he noted that the majority of those dead here were of the latter. He felt a sadness that was different than anything he had felt before. His pure white snow was stained with varying shades of red. Stained with the bright red of the newly dead and injured. Stained dark crimson with the drying blood of those who had been killed hours, even days before.

Disgusted he looked away. Yes, they had won. But the price they had all had to pay… He shook his head. Then something caught his eye. A familiar maroon baseball cap laid on its bed of white. A lump formed in his throat. He dropped to the ground as the final pieces of his wings disappeared. Kneeling, his outstretched hand gently touched the cap. Not wanting to, but unable to stop himself, he lifted it from the snow, his teal eyes examining the scenery. Praying he wouldn't see what he was afraid of. Praying the owner was somewhere far away, safe from the massacre.

The scream of agony coming from the orange haired man clutching his sister's body a few feet away was the answer to those prayers. Standing, the cap crumpled in his hand, he scowled hatefully at the melting ice at his feet.

Today, for the first time in his life, he hated the white snow.

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A/N2: Just for the record. I do not have anything against Karin. I think she is awesome. She just somehow fit with this story. Sorry folks.


	3. Black Blurs

Disclaimer: As always, not mine. Ichigo belongs to Tite Kubo. Believe me if he was mine, the war would have ended without Azien's weird wings!

A/N: Been a while since I worked on this. The last several chapters and episodes of the anime have given fuel to my Bleach muse. So I decided to pick it up again, and explore some of the aspects of different events. Ichigo's loss of his powers struck me as one of the saddest things Kubo could have done. Hence this little work. Enjoy, and no flames.

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**Black Blurs**

Of all the pain he had felt over the last year or so, nothing compared to this. This gasping, wrenching, hot searing feeling of his very soul being torn asunder. The severing of his heart from his mind, the ebb and flow of his power leaking out from him in tangible black ribbons. To feel so weak… from the moment he had grasped that gleaming blade and thrust it into his chest willingly, he had grown accustom to the burning sensations of his reaper powers. The fire that coursed through his veins, driving him onward in his quest to protect all he cared about. It had opened a whole new world full of purpose and deep friendships.

And now, it was all melting away. His vision blurred, from pain or tears he couldn't be certain. A part of him was dying, and he couldn't help but wonder just what it would mean for his future.

_Future…_

He hadn't really given the subject much though. Always living and surviving in the present. Learn from the past and move forward. It was all he knew, all he had done for so long.

And now that it was ending, in black blurs and flame filled swells, what did he do now?

He had seen it through. His friends were safe, the enemy defeated. So what was he to strive for now?

With an earth shattering scream of agony, the last bit of his powers faded away and with it, Ichigo Kurosaki: Soul Reaper, Vizard, Hollow Creature became something he had never been before…

Just human.


	4. Shades of Grey

Disclaimer: I wish, I wish with all my might, to have wondrous Bleach and give it flight... Oh well... Still not mine.

A/N: I'm behind in like everything right now. Life really socked it to me, and I'm still floundering in a sea of stress. However, I did finally get to see the subbed version of Bleach movie 4, and I think it just might be my second favorite. So I guess I should warn that this is based upon that, and hence has spoilers. If you haven't seen it, do so. If you have, enjoy. No flames please. Byakuya would not be pleased. And anyone waiting for updates on my other stories, Foolish Games included- they are coming very soon. Bear with me please.

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**Shades of Grey**

He never thought he would relate to the younger man this way, that there would be a sort of kinship between them. Things had always been black and white for him. There was no deviating from his path, no second guessing or voicing of his own opinion. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed an opinion, not in things that really mattered. He had made one choice on his own, and look how well that turned out.

No, whether he admitted it or not, he was but a tool, a mere slave to the mediocrity of the aristocracy. It was his duty, nay his privilege to uphold the very foundations his clan had been built upon. And while not exactly happy, he had been somewhat content to go along with it all, never making waves, rowing the boat in a calm and boring manner. For this he had been born and bred. And so the days fell, like rippled on a lake.

Until that day when everything shattered and his world, his pristine and perfected ideals came crashing down, shattering on the ground. It took one person, a mere slip of a boy to rock everything he knew into the dust. It rankled him, twisting his mind in ways he had never considered, casting questions and doubts as heavy stones into his lake, driving him to wonder what was really right and what was wrong.

Black and white clashed with brilliant orange, a colour he despised, hideously garish and bright. The youth was crass and unmannerly in many ways, the complete opposite of himself. He thought the boy a fool, uneducated and weak. Easily cut down and trampled upon, left to die in pool of his own blood.

It was black and white, the way the world was supposed to be. The strong survived, the weak did not. Decorum and order reigned, chaos simply not tolerated. However, from the moment he left the world of the living, left that body bleeding on the cold ground, the lines began to blur, and fade. Black gave way to red, white to gleaming hazel, and suddenly nothing was clear, nothing was the same.

Everything was different.

_He_ was different.

Cracks formed in his heart, giving way to emotions he had long since buried. He began to _feel_ again. It hurt at first, the realizations of all he had almost sacrificed for the sake of duty, almost lost in the ripples of being the perfect man. He looked upon his sister and saw not the dead woman she resembled, but the powerful girl his family had adopted. And felt pride in her accomplishments.

Not that one would know. He was still Byakuya Kuchiki after all, and had an image to up hold. But those who knew him could see the softening of his eyes when he saw her. And yet it seemed she was the only one to feel his concern, to know what his caring words sounded like.

The tortured screams of the young man brought him back to the present as his grey eyes focused on the horrific scene before him. Despite knowing much about Ichigo Kurosaki, he could still be amazed by the sheer forceful power the man possessed. Seeing him twisting about, clutching the pale body of a young girl in his arms, a furious cry ripping from his lips, the stoic captain flinched minutely as the sounds of agony swept all around them. It was confusing at first, this macabre play unfolding before them. He strove to comprehend just what had happened. Watching with detached fascination as Ichigo sank to his knees, begging and shaking his friend with desperate pleas for solace, for the tiniest hints that what he thought to be true was not, it took him mere moments to piece together the truth behind Ichigo's insane actions.

His sister, his little helpless, innocent sister had been dragged quite literally to Hell. In that second of dawning realization, the two men were at once on the same level. The facts aligned, and while Byakuya's own sister was still trapped in Hell, his worry was nothing like what the younger man felt. He listened with piercing clarity as the Head Captain ripped into Ichigo, laying the fault solely at his feet. The crushing weight of it all must have been astronomical, something the older man knew all too well.

He shook his head, pausing outside the white covered tent that housed the body of Ichigo's youngest sister. He felt a flash of anger, resentment even towards his own leader, and frowned. While it was certain that the young man's actions had been rash, the entirety of the incident was not completely his responsibility to bear. The Soul Society with all its pompousness and shadows of righteousness, had often dug its own grave, pulling the dirt in afterward. Circumstances that should have been brought to light were left in the dark to fester mutinously. This was one such mistake. They knew who the intended targets had been, and yet had failed to alert the substitute Soul Reaper. Without that vital information, Ichigo was left to do what he did best- try to save the day once again. And as it had been a direct attack on his family, whom everyone knew held the dearest place in his heart, it was only logical that he wouldn't think twice about rushing in where angels dare not tread.

For once, the old man was gravely mistaken. And it was for that very reason that the stern man stood before the closed flap on the mourning tent. Quietly, he listened. Heartbreaking sounds of the deepest grieving filled the stillness around him. Pulling aside the sheet, he entered, stopping to silently observe a man he had come to understand, if not respect. He knew the deep chilling pain of a loved ones' death, felt the gut wrenching burn of seeing a life cut too short. He allowed Ichigo his privacy for several moments. It was wrong, he reflected, to see someone so bright in so much pain, so damaged and shattered. Ichigo was not meant for this kind of hopelessness. He was a brilliant being, filled with righteous fire.

Wincing slightly, Byakuya shook his head. He could feel a physical pain- empathy- for his comrade, blurring those lines again.

And as he took a step forwards, to offer the comfort only he could give, shades of grey filled the air. Black and white no longer had a place here, not for them, not any more.


	5. Bruised Purple

**Disclaimer: Nothing of Bleach is mine... **

****A/N: Isshin is one of those characters it took me a long time to warm up to. To me, he's a bully and totally irresponsible when it comes the Ichigo and his activities. He missed out on a lot, choosing to allow others to do what he could have done. However, seeing him in the last few subbed episodes kinda softened me to him. I won't say anything more. Enjoy. Reviews welcome... flames not.

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**Bruised Purple**

He could recall the very moment his son was born. The elation he felt was only eclipsed slightly by his dread of Ichigo's future. After all his child, his baby boy was the child of a soul reaper, and a human who had a certain amount of spiritual power. It was inevitable that the kid gain the 'sight.' And it was only a matter of time before Ichigo's power progressed from there.

He was a coward. He knew that well and truly. He could have spilled his secrets, confided in his son. But he didn't, allowing the darkness to infold around the teen, the guilt to eat away at him until he could no longer stand being powerless. He stood by, silently, as Ichigo gained a Shinigami's power, taking up the mantle of protector, the valiant knight striving to protect all he held dear.

He said nothing when his son was dragged off by Kisuke, nearly dead after a run in with a Captain and a Lieutenant from the Soul Society. He knew what he would have to undergo, knew exactly what could go wrong.

Time and time again, he bowed his head as his son left to champion his friends. He watched the jaded look harden in those amber eyes as Ichigo's childhood left him behind. His fist clinched, cutting moon shaped slices into his palms when the fiery boy came back triumphant and just a bit more bitter.

By chance, or maybe it was destiny, he had to reveal himself, to tell the truth he should have spoken many years before. And then he had to show his son what true sacrifice was all about. The pain, the anguish, the loss. Ichigo bore it all without complaint, and within those few moments, Isshin knew regret, and forgiveness.


End file.
